


...And A Happy New Year.

by siximpossiblethings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Human, Christmas, M/M, Reunions, Sibling Incest, slight dubcon?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 10:11:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siximpossiblethings/pseuds/siximpossiblethings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael wakes up Christmas morning and can already hear Balthazar and Anna bickering over breakfast.<br/>Bah humbug.</p>
            </blockquote>





	...And A Happy New Year.

**Author's Note:**

> christmas michifer fic for my girlfriend! unbeta'd and fairly rough so apologies for any errors :) happy holidays, everyone!
> 
> WARNING(S): recreational alcohol use, slight mention of sex under influence of said alcohol, incest (obviously), and swearing

Michael wakes up Christmas morning and can already hear Balthazar and Anna bickering over breakfast.

_Bah humbug._

Their voices travel up the staircase into the upstairs bedrooms and frankly, Michael couldn’t care less about chocolate chip pancakes versus blueberry ones this early in the morning. He just wanted some coffee to fix the pounding ache in his head and for this day to be over.

Christmas was never something he particularly looked forward to. What with hoards of kids to provide for, the holiday always sort of gave Michael a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach. Most of it was due to the entire well being of the family being flat out forced upon him, but the rest of it was unknown to most of the family. They didn’t need to know about his failed attempt at keeping all of them together.

Michael forces himself out of bed, running a hand through his bed head. The hallway is a chilly and he feels his skin form little goose bumps despite his thick pajamas. By the time he gets downstairs to the kitchen the pancake dilemma has been solved. Castiel is sitting at the table, a book next to his plate halfway done. He’s fully dressed, Dean’s jacket wrapped around his frame.

“Where are you headed to?” Michael turns to pour himself a cup of coffee, leaning against the formica counter. His voice was gravelly and still heavy with sleep.

“Dean’s,” Castiel replied without missing a beat and while still absorbing the words on the page in front of him. “I’m spending Christmas with him. Gabe’s coming, too, so he can spend some time with Sam.”

“Cas, it’s _Christmas,_ ” Michael said back. “You should be spending time with your family, not your boyfriend.”

Cas broke contact with his book to glance up at his older brother. “Michael, we’re not doing anything this year anyway. We haven’t done anything since Lu--” Castiel stopped speaking midsentence, not wanting to bring up the huge elephant in the room. “I’ll be home by midnight, okay?” he offered, big blue eyes imploring to be let go. “I’ll see you then.” He stood up from the table, shutting his book and adjusting Dean’s jacket around him. Michael said nothing in reply.

Before Cas left, he looked back to Michael, almost out the kitchen door.

“Hey, Michael?”

“Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, Cas.”

The door slams on its own on Cas’ way out. Michael’s coffee is still hot, but he can’t bring himself to finish it.

~

How on Earth Michael ends up alone on Christmas is beyond his reach. Castiel is out with Dean, Gabriel accompanying him to spend the holidays with his boyfriend, Dean’s younger brother Sam. Anna jumped ship after pancakes to go out with Ruby, Balthazar spending time with some girlfriend Michael never bothered to ask about. And to be honest? He doesn’t know where the others have gone. All he knows is that he’s completely alone on a holiday that he already hates.

He pours himself some more coffee, the drink burnt and practically offensive on his tongue. He takes one sip and ignores the mug for the rest of his time on the living room couch. The old beaten up television is on, spewing something about Rudolph not being allowed to play any reindeer games.

Hands folded underneath his chin, Michael tries not to feel hurt at how bad it feels to be alone.

His mind flashes to one person, who he tries to push to the back of the junk drawer that is his mind. However, the goddamned thing won’t shut and he finds that his brain is stuck on this one particular person who he tried to believe never really mattered.

Soon enough, the thoughts are bubbling over and Michael can’t help but dash upstairs to change quickly into something halfway decent looking before he dodges out the door to his car.

~

Lucifer’s apartment is fucking freezing. He swears, he could leave a glass of water by itself for an hour and he’d find the bugs that invaded the place ice skating on the surface.

It’s a worn down old apartment building, with more people living in it than is probably legal but the rent is cheap so he can’t really complain. The garage doesn’t pay too much and beggars can’t be choosers. Lilith is coming over later, so he guesses he should clean the place up a little, but he can’t really be bothered.

He’s halfway through reading the morning paper ( _death, violence, sex, more death, an extra dose of sex, then a hope restoring filler, of course_ ) when he hears a knock at the door. Grumbling, Lucifer gets up and opens the door, not bothering to ask who it is.

It’s Michael and he nearly pisses himself.

Michael Westwick, older brother in all his fucking glory with a cheap carton of eggnog in his hand expecting to be let in like _that._ The gall of that guy.

“What are you doing here?” Lucifer says, more of a command than a request. “Shouldn’t you be home?”

“I was,” Michael says. “Everyone left for their boyfriends and girlfriends so I was stuck on the couch watching Frosty and Rudolph.” His voice sounds passive, almost scared. That, though, wouldn’t be very Michael.

“So you came over here just to bother me?” Lucifer retorts. “Listen, fuck face, I’m not interested in you--”

He’s cut off by Michael, tone a bit more defensive this time. “Hey, calm down asswipe. I came because…” He trails off, eyes examining the dirty wood floor.

“Because _what?_ ” If looks could kill, Michael would be six feet under already.

“Just because, shit man.” Michael shakes his head, the eggnog shaking in its container. “You gonna let me in or not?”

It takes a moment, but Lucifer moves aside and Michael steps into the apartment.

“Uh,” he begins as he looks around. “Nice place.” Lucifer can tell its forced.

“I live in a hell hole, Michael I’m sure there’s a hotel for mice in the walls. Don’t bullshit a bullshitter.”

Michael nods and remains quiet for a moment, offering the carton of eggnog to his brother. “I brought this for you. For us, to uh, share, I guess.”

Lucifer takes it from his brother’s hands, nodding in reply. “Thanks, Mike.”

“No problem.”

~

An hour later, they’re sitting on the couch laughing up a storm as Michael talks about how horribly horrific Anna’s science project went last year, two cups of eggnog in hand. Lucifer brought out a bottle of brandy to mix into their drinks. They’re not drunk, but there’s a fuzzy feeling to the whole scene.

“Completely gone, plaster and all,” Michael says, finishing the story along with his drink. Lucifer pours another one for him.

“Ah, shit. I can’t believe I missed that,” Lucifer says. “She was always a control freak, I bet she flipped.”

“She did, she almost failed too. Cas stayed up with her all night to remake it.” He sips from his cup, a warm sensation overtaking his insides. “They’re a funny bunch, man. They miss you, too.”

The two of them fall silent after that, the only sound in the room Lucifer’s clearing of his throat.

“You should probably go back to them, Mike,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“Nah,” Michael replies. “They’re probably still out. They won’t miss me much.”

“Mm,” is all Lucifer says in return. It’s late now and they’d stayed up talking for God knows how long. Michael doesn’t want to run out of things to bring up.

“Why’d you leave?” he blurts out. “Why’d you just leave us, Luci? We needed you.”

“Michael, shut up. You’re being an idiot,” Lucifer says. He tries to hide the blush the old nickname brings up.

“No I’m not, I’m being serious right now.” Maybe its Dutch courage taking the steering wheel, but Michael can’t bring himself to care. “Why’d you leave?”

“Because.”

“Because _what?_ ”

“Because I loved you like you walked on water, god dammit, Michael. And you just didn’t care. You acted like we were some fucking ticking time bomb and it was your job to defuse us.”

Michael is quiet. What is left to say when you’ve been smacked down with the truth?

“Exactly.” Lucifer turns to stare at the black television screen. “I think you should leave now, Michael.”

Still unable to speak, Michael leans across to his brother and presses his lips against Lucifer’s and soon enough, he’s responding to it and _Christ,_ they’re kissing like they used to and its beautiful and ugly and glorious and sinful all at once.

Not too long afterwards, Michael feels himself fall against Lucifer’s thin sheets on his even thinner mattress and he wonders if this is what heaven feels like.

~

The next morning, a soft light filters through the room and Michael knows he can’t stay. He’s a little sore and tired, but Lucifer is fast asleep and he looks so peaceful in his sleep he can’t bring himself to wake him up. However, this abandonment won’t be as empty as last time. Getting dressed quickly, he puts the cups from last night into the sink and grabs an orange Post-It and scrawls a quick message and places it on the night stand.

_See you next year, Luci. Merry Christmas._

_Love,_

_Michael_

~

Three hundred sixty-five days later, Lucifer hears a knock at the door. Opening it, he sees Michael, eggnog and all.


End file.
